<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>poppies in the trench by PyroQuill</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24600520">poppies in the trench</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroQuill/pseuds/PyroQuill'>PyroQuill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>1917 (Movie 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1917, 1917 (2019) - Freeform, Other, Pets, blake befriends a trench rat, but the main focus for this is the R A T, just some war bois with their pet rat, like this is s o ft, not necessarily blakefield, soft, someone help me how do i tag this, take your pic, their relationship in this can be read as platonic or romantic, tom blake - Freeform, will schofield - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:48:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24600520</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroQuill/pseuds/PyroQuill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake befriends a rat, Scho doesn't know what to do with this information.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Blake &amp; William Schofield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>poppies in the trench</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ahhahaaa, yeah. So me and a friend on the 1917 amino (Glucose Guardian thank you for screeching about this with meee) came up with "wow what if Blake befriended a trench rat that would be adorable" so, here it is. I wrote out a lil fic for them. It's short I know i'm sorry but Quarantine has made me loose motivation to do a lot of productive things so. I didn't want to drag it on and make it dull.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What have you got there?” </p><p>Blake looks up in surprise, hand dropping from his breast pocket. “Nothin’.” Schofield raises a brow, but doesn’t press the question further. </p><p>“We got lucky today, just sit tight and watch for attacks from the Hun.” Schofield continues. He sidesteps the other, and the two make their way to the post they were assigned to that day. </p><p> </p><p>---------------------</p><p> </p><p>The afternoon sun bore down on Schofield, making his uniform hot and uncomfortable. Not many shells had hit this part of the trench, and silently he was grateful for that. </p><p>He turns to Blake, about to ask him a question when he pauses. The other was bent over, cooing at something that he had cupped in his hands. Perplexed Schofield shifts closer, and nearly yells in shock. In Blake’s dirt encrusted hands sat a rat. It’s fur was a deep chestnut color, with a pure white underbelly. Unlike the trench rats he had frequently come across, this one was clean. In fact, it was the cleanest looking thing he had ever seen the past few months.</p><p>Blake, sensing Schofield had moved closer, quickly tucks his hands close to his chest, shielding the rat from view. Well, its tail still hung from between his fingers and a front leg jutted out not too far away from said tail. </p><p>“Hey, Scho.” He stammers, flashing him an unsure grin.</p><p>Schofield just sighs. “I saw it, you know.” he remarks with a wave of a hand. At this statement, Blake seems to deflate a bit, looking from his friend to his hands. “But Blake, why do you have a bloody rat? Those things are gross, and they carry diseases.”</p><p>Blake then frowns up at him, and shakes his head. “Not Poppy.”</p><p>
  <i>”Poppy?”</i>
</p><p>The other slowly opens his hands, the rat immediately poking it’s tiny pink nose to the air. </p><p>“Yeah, I named her Poppy. I found her burrowed in my helmet one day. Cleaned her up some with the water in my tin. I’ve been hiding her in my pocket for-” his brow furrows in thought. “Three days now?” </p><p>Schofield shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding a rat in your pocket.” But the shock of the rodent’s existence has long since subsided, and he couldn’t help but feel a wave of fondness for the other. Of course Blake’s first reaction was to help the creature,</p><p>“So, why Poppy? Is it the name of a girl you know back home?” He teases.</p><p>Blake laughs with a shake of his head. “No… She just looks like a Poppy, y’know? And there was a little patch of wild Poppies growing near our tree when I found her, so I thought it fit.”</p><p>Poppy had now turned to peer at Schofield. Thin whiskers twitching, she stretches her head out towards him. Blake immediately moves his cupped hands closer, and Poppy darts out and onto Schofield’s lap. The blond fights the urge to smack her off him, a bit startled at the rats sudden dash for him. The two watch as she sniffs at his knee, then turns to attempt to scurry up the front of his uniform.</p><p>“She wants to sit on your shoulder.” Blake explained with a laugh. Schofield tilts his chin down, watching the rat slowly but surely making her way up to his shoulder. Grasping at his collar, she hunkers down and sniffs at his ear. Her whiskers tickled the inside of his ear, and he let out a gasp of laughter. </p><p>“Bloody hell that tickles.” Still laughing, he leans his head away. Almost determinedly, Poppy follows until Schofield has to grab her to save her from falling.  She struggles for a moment and then goes slack. Gently setting her back in Blake’s hands, he strokes the top of her head with a finger before leaning back against the wall of the trench.</p><p>Blake sets her back in his pocket, this time folding the flap behind her so she could poke her head out whenever she wished. Blake, Schofield and Poppy spend the rest of the day at that post. All unaware of what was to come tomorrow. April 6th, 1917.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>